


Chocolate Cream Pie

by DeansDirtyLittleSecret



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Blood and Injury, Canon-Typical Violence, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Fluff, Oral Sex, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-22
Updated: 2018-12-22
Packaged: 2019-09-25 01:42:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 12,410
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17112068
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DeansDirtyLittleSecret/pseuds/DeansDirtyLittleSecret
Summary: This was a request on Tumblr: I’d like a Dean/Reader where the reader is sitting in a restaurant about to eat some chocolate pie (with whipped cream of course) when Dean and Sam walk in. Reader sees Dean walk in first so she scoops some pie (and cream) on her finger and brings it slowly to her mouth where she licks it off her finger, watching Dean’s reaction. I would totally love this to include smut if possible.





	1. Chapter 1

“Can I get you anything else, Y/N?” the waitress asked as she put your coffee on the table in front of you.

“No thanks, Audrey” you murmured, picking up the warm liquid and taking a sip. “Just keep the coffee coming.”

The waitress nodded and gave you a brief smile as she walked away. You returned to the papers you had spread across the table.  They weren’t going to grade themselves. You picked up your red pen and went back to work. The small family owned restaurant was your favorite place to escape to when you had a lot of work to do. They had the best chocolate cream pie in the world and a great cup of coffee, and the owners never cared how long you stayed.

A cold breeze blew through the restaurant as the door opened. You looked up to see two men enter, both of them very tall and extremely attractive. They were dressed similar to each other in jeans, t-shirts, and flannel shirts with work boots and functional jackets finishing it off. The shorter of the two glanced your way, his piercing green eyes staring into yours. He winked at you and you smiled tentatively at him, your heart racing.

Was he actually flirting with you? That wasn’t something you were accustomed to, not in this town. You knew everybody and everybody knew you; there wasn’t anybody around to flirt with.

You watched them as they looked around and then sat in a booth several tables away from you. Green eyes sat facing you, a smile on his face as he watched you. You thought you might have been imagining the fact that he was staring, wishful thinking and all, until Audrey came by to fill up your coffee.

“Do you think he could be a little more obvious?” she asked.

“What?” you murmured.

“He’s been staring at you since he came in, Y/N,” she laughed. “You haven’t noticed?”

You nodded. “Yeah, actually, I did,” you giggled. “He is attractive isn’t he?”

Audrey laughed again. “He’s the most attractive thing to walk into this town in a long time. You should go for that, sweetie. Handsome stranger, lonely schoolteacher, the cliches are screaming to be played out.”

You laughed as Audrey walked off, a huge grin on her face. You tried to go back to grading the papers on the table, but you couldn’t help but look up every now and then to see what the green-eyed stranger was doing. And every time you did, he smiled at you.

You read over a couple of the papers on the table while you watched as he finished his food and sat sipping his coffee, deep in conversation with his friend. He still kept an eye on you, smiling whenever you made eye contact. You were starting to think maybe Audrey was right.

You caught the waitress’s attention, pointing at your coffee cup. She came over and filled your cup, then she slid a slice of chocolate cream pie, covered in whipped cream, onto the table in front of you. When you started to protest, she shushed you.

“On the house,” she said. “It’s the last piece, enjoy it.”

You thanked her and picked up your fork, taking a huge bite. Just as you put it in your mouth, you made eye contact with the handsome guy again. His eyes were wide and he was biting his lip, his eyes glued to your mouth. You smiled to yourself and suddenly you felt braver than you’d ever felt before. Not breaking eye contact with him, you dropped your fork to the table and scooped up some whipped cream onto the tip of your finger and slowly licked it off, your tongue skimming over every inch of your finger. By the time you were done, the stranger at the table was practically panting and squirming in his seat. You smiled at him and put your finger in your mouth, sucking on it delicately.

Before you knew what was happening, the green-eyed stranger was standing over you, holding out his hand.

“I’m Dean,” he said. His voice was low and gravelly and oh my God, sexier than anything you’d ever heard in your life.

“Y/N,” you whispered.

Dean slid into the seat across from you, a smirk on his face. “How’s your pie?” he asked.

“It’s excellent,” you grinned.

“Chocolate cream is one of my favorites,” he smiled. “But the waitress said you got the last piece. It sure looks good.”

You picked up your fork, broke off a piece and held it out to him. “It’s the best chocolate cream pie in town,” you murmured. “Would you like a bite?”

He leaned over the table, as close to you as the table would allow. “I would love a bite,” he growled, taking the proffered fork, slowly sliding the food into his mouth.

You stared at his full, pink lips, a bit of whipped cream in the corner of his mouth. You reached over to wipe it off at the same time that his tongue snaked out of his mouth to lick it off. His tongue brushed across your thumb, sending a shiver down your spine. You let out a shaky sigh.

“Look,” he said quietly. “We’re both adults here, so I was wondering if you…”

“You want to get out of here?” you asked. “I live just around the corner.” You weren’t sure where this sudden boldness was coming from, but right now, with this incredibly gorgeous guy sitting in front of you, obviously interested in you, you didn’t care. You were willing to take this wherever it might go.

Dean nodded. “Give me just a minute?” he said. He got out of the booth and walked down to the table where his friend sat. They talked for a few minutes and then Dean dropped a set of keys into his friend’s hand. He slapped him on the shoulder as he walked back to your table. Dean leaned against the seat as you gathered your papers and shoved them into your backpack. You pulled your wallet out, only to see that Dean had dropped more than enough cash to pay your bill onto the table. You smiled at him as you walked past him.

Dean followed you out the door, strolling beside you up the sidewalk. Your house was a few blocks from the restaurant, small and set back from the street. In the few minutes it took to walk there, you and Dean exchanged pleasantries, the precursory lead up to casual sex. You told him you were a school teacher and he explained that he and his brother were on a road trip, trying to get back to being a family. He didn’t say a lot about what his job was, but that wasn’t really important, not for what you had in mind.

By the time you got to your house, the two of you had exhausted most of your conversation niceties. Dean took your keys from your hand, unlocking your door. He held it open for you, then threw your keys to the table next to the door. You tossed your backpack onto the couch as well as your jacket, suddenly nervous.

Apparently, Dean wasn’t nervous, because he wasted no time removing his jacket as he crossed the room to stand in front of you. He put his hands on your waist and pulled you close, his lips brushing over yours. He was so tall you had to stand on your tiptoes to wrap your hands around his neck. You returned his kisses hungrily, the feel of his lips against yours and his tongue in your mouth exciting you in ways you hadn’t remembered were possible. His hands moved down your body until he was cupping your bottom in his hands and pulling your hips against his. You gasped at the feel of his erection pressing into you, even through the layers of clothes you were both wearing.

Dean moved to your neck, your head falling back as he sucked and nibbled along your throat. A flash of light drew your attention to the window that you and Dean were currently standing in front of; your neighbor’s car pulling into their driveway. You stepped away from Dean and took his hand, pulling him down a short hallway to your bedroom, tucked away in the back of the house. You turned on the light by door, so tiny it barely pushed away the darkness in the room.

You stopped in the middle of the room, right in front of the bed, suddenly feeling awkward. You didn’t usually bring strange men home with you and weren’t exactly sure how to proceed. Dean stood watching you for a couple of seconds, then he yanked off his flannel shirt, tossing it to the chair in the corner. You pulled your sweater over your head and dropped it at your feet, then you kicked off your Converse, pushing them under the bed behind you. When you reached back to unhook your bra, Dean grabbed your arms.

“Let me do it,” he murmured, his voice rich and smooth like good scotch. Just the sound of it caused heat to pool in the pit of your stomach. He reached behind you and in one swift move, your bra was on the floor with your sweater. He smiled as he cupped your breasts in his hands, his thumbs brushing over the nipples, bringing them to attention. He took one in his mouth, suckling it, his tongue swirling over the nipple. You let out a breathy sigh.

Dean broke away and pulled his t-shirt over his head, then he drew the other nipple into his mouth, lightly biting it. He slowly unbuttoned your jeans and slid down the zipper, pushing them down until you were able to kick them off, leaving you standing in front of him in nothing.

You decided to level the playing field by unbuttoning his jeans and pushing them off. When your hand brushed over his stiffening cock, Dean hissed slightly. Liking the sound, you grasped him through his boxers, rubbing him gently until he moaned against your breast, sending a delicious vibration thrumming through you.

Dean pushed you backward until you hit the bed, then he lowered you carefully to it. Starting at your neck, he kissed his way down your body until he reached your warm center. Your back arched in anticipation of what was to come, your nerves on edge. You didn’t even know this guy and not only had you invited him into your home and your bed, you were about to let him touch you in one of the most intimate ways possible. At the last second, you reached out and took his face in your hand, trying to stop him. Instead he took your hand and held it, resting it on your stomach.

You could just make out his green eyes in the faint light as he stared at you. “It’s okay, Y/N,” he whispered. “I want to. In fact, I’d love to.”

As he stared into your eyes, he boldly licked a stripe along your folds, his tongue flattening at the last second as it pressed against your clit and then you were gone, lost in the sensations suddenly overwhelming you. Dean’s tongue entered you, swirling in maddening circles as he fucked you with it. You were close, very close when his finger slid slowly into you and then he was crooking his finger, hitting  _that spot_ , that one spot that sent such a rush of pleasure through you that you nearly passed out.

Once you started to come down, Dean moved back up your body, stopping every few inches to suck or nibble or lick until he reached your mouth. You could taste yourself as he kissed you and that, in combination with his fingers still moving inside you caused you to climax again. You opened your eyes to see a delighted grin on Dean’s face. He kissed your cheek and sat up.

“Be right back,” he promised.

You moaned at the loss of his warmth next to your body. You heard him rustling around, then a faint curse, before he was back at your side. He slipped a foil wrapped package into your hand.

You quickly opened the package and dropped the condom into your hand. You pushed Dean onto his back and straddled his legs. You ran your hands over his hard cock, briefly cupping his balls before sliding the condom onto him. You moved so you were hovering over him and then you slowly slid yourself onto him, stopping every couple of inches to allow yourself a chance to accommodate him. Once you had taken in as much as you could, you began moving, slowly at first as your body adjusted. It wasn’t long before you were riding Dean hard, his hands gripping your hips so tightly that you were sure you’d have bruises the next day.

But you didn’t care, because this was fucking amazing, literally the best sex you’d ever had. When Dean started rubbing your clit you lost it, another orgasm consuming you, heat and electricity bursting through every nerve ending, white light exploding across your vision. You screamed his name, not caring if the whole world heard you.

But Dean wasn’t finished with you. Without missing a beat, he flipped you to your back and thrust into you, fucking you so hard the bed was slamming against the wall. You met him thrust for thrust, your nails digging grooves down his back as he pumped into you. With a loud grunt, and one last hard thrust, he came, every muscle in his body tensing with pleasure.

Dean moved off of you, collapsing at your side on the bed. You threw an arm over your eyes, trying to catch your breath. You felt Dean moving and then he was gone. You figured he would take off now that he was done, so you were pleasantly surprised when he returned to the bed and pulled the blanket over the two of you.

“Mind if I stay for a while?” he asked.

“No,” you mumbled. “I don’t mind at all.”

Dean rolled to his side and took your hand. Within seconds, he was asleep. You laid on your side, memorizing every line in his face, knowing that by morning he’d be gone. You didn’t ever want to forget what he looked like. You fell asleep staring at his lips.

When you woke up the next morning, Dean was gone, just as you’d suspected. Your phone was lying on the pillow next to you. You picked it up and saw a message on the screen.

_Hey Y/N, I took your number off your phone. If I come through town, I’ll call you. Thanks for a great night. That was the best chocolate cream pie I’ve ever had._

You hugged your phone to your chest, a huge grin on your face. You had a feeling it would be a while before it was gone.


	2. Chapter 2

You kicked your shoes off, not caring where they landed, and dropped to the couch. You were exhausted and hungry. Teaching third graders all day took a lot out of you. You checked your watch, wondering why the pizza you’d ordered was taking so long. You’d called before you’d even left school, since you couldn’t find your phone. You leaned back and closed your eyes. Thank God it was Friday. You weren’t going to do anything for the next 2 days, in fact you might just stay in your pajamas all weekend.

“Speaking of pajamas…” you mumbled to yourself, reluctantly pushing yourself to your feet and hurrying down the short hallway to your bedroom. As you were digging through the drawer for your most comfortable pants, you noticed your cell phone sitting on top of the dresser, notification light flashing.

“There you are,” you said out loud. You hadn’t been able to find it all day and you had been hopeful that you’d left it at home. You stripped out of your skirt and blouse, tossing them on the chair by the bed. Your bra was right behind it. You slipped on an old, threadbare AC/DC t-shirt and a pair of well-worn yoga pants. You put on a pair of fuzzy socks and grabbed your phone from dresser, opening your text messages as you walked back to the living room.

There were two messages from your mom, she had some guy she wanted you to meet. Yuck. There was another from your best friend, inviting you out. She also had someone she thought you should meet. Problem was, you weren’t interested. You’d already met the guy you were interested in, in fact you were completed consumed with him, despite the fact that you’d only been together once and you hadn’t seen or heard from him in almost three months. When you closed your eyes, you could still see his perfect face, with his full, pink lips, the smattering of freckles across his cheeks and nose and his gorgeous green eyes. Dean.

The last text message was from a number you didn’t recognize. It was probably a wrong number or one of those stupid spam messages. But it wasn’t either of those.

_Hey Y/N, it’s Dean. I’ll be in town in a couple of hours. Want to see you. Interested?_

You nearly dropped your phone, you were so surprised. You checked the time the message had come in - just a little after one. It was almost five. Shit, shit, shit. You’d probably missed your chance. You’d text him back and pray for the best.

You’d just hit send when your doorbell rang. Finally, the pizza. You grabbed your purse off of the table, digging through it for your wallet as you opened the door.

“That was twenty doll….” The word trailed off as your eyes looked into the green ones you’d been longing to see again for months. “Holy shit,” you mumbled.

“Not exactly what I was hoping you’d say,” Dean chuckled. He was leaning on the doorjamb, one hand in his jacket pocket, the other holding a box. He pulled his phone from his pocket and wiggled it side to side. “I got your text message,” he said. “As I was walking up the sidewalk.”

“I was afraid I missed you,” you said.

“Nah,” he replied. “When you didn’t answer, I thought I’d come check on you. Make sure everything was alright.” He looked past you into the house. “Everything is alright, isn’t it?”

“Everything is perfect,” you answered, nodding enthusiastically. You grabbed Dean’s jacket and pulled him toward you, rising up on your toes to kiss him. Something about him made you feel like you’d never felt before and do things you’d never done before. He made you feel safe, like he’d never judge you for anything you did. That made you feel brave, not afraid to step outside of the box you lived in and try new things. Like bringing a complete stranger home for sex. The most mind-blowing sex you’d ever had.

You felt Dean smiling against your lips. You gave a gentle tug and pulled him all the way inside, kicking the door closed behind him. He set the box on the table by the door and wrapped his hands around your waist, pulling you tight against his hard body. You sighed as his lips met yours again, your arms snaking around his neck.

“Hi,” you whispered.

“Hi,” he murmured. “Did you miss me?”

You laughed, slightly embarrassed at your enthusiasm. But only slightly. “A little bit, yeah,” you admitted. Dean’s nose brushed against yours as he kissed you again, his hands tangled in your hair.  “Or maybe a lot,” you sighed when he pulled away.

“So…were you expecting someone?” he asked, pointing at the door.

“Pizza,” you answered. “I ordered a pizza. But we could go out, I mean, I could throw it in the fridge, get dressed, we can do whatever you want.” You were babbling and you knew it, you just couldn’t stop yourself.  

“Hey,” Dean said calmly, taking your hand. “I actually like the idea of just staying here and eating pizza with you, just the two of us. If you have beer, that is.”

“I do,” you smiled. “A whole twelve pack. I bought it on my way home. It was a long week.” You shrugged.

Dean laughed. He picked up the box he’d set on the table and opened the lid. “And I brought dessert,” he said, brandishing the box. Inside was a chocolate cream pie from the restaurant where the two of you had met. “Point me to the kitchen?”

“My favorite,” you laughed and pointed to the kitchen just off of the living room. The doorbell rang, signaling the arrival of the pizza. Once you’d paid for the pizza, you followed Dean to the kitchen. He’d made himself comfortable, managing to find the plates and taking the beer from the fridge. You put the pizza on the table and sat down, Dean taking the seat right beside you. It wasn’t long before you were talking his ear off, telling him pretty much everything about yourself. He listened, sipping his beer and watching you. He didn’t say much at first, but as the time slipped by, he started to loosen up, telling you a bit about himself. He still played it pretty close to the cuff, but he seemed to be trying.

“How long are you staying this time?” you finally asked, even though you didn’t want to hear the answer.

Dean shrugged. “Things are kind of open right now,” he answered. “I don’t have any place to be, my brother and I are…taking a break from…work. I’ve got some free time.” He leaned back in his chair and ran a hand over the back of his neck. “I was hoping you’d be okay with me staying here for a few days.”

Your heart skipped a beat and your breath caught in your throat. You didn’t even have to think about your answer. “Yeah,” you said, trying to act nonchalant. “That’d be great.” You got up and opened the pie box, putting two pieces on two plates and slathering them in whipped cream. You set them on the table, but before you could sit down, Dean grabbed your hand.

“Come here,” he said.

He pulled you into his lap, your legs on either side of his. He put his hands under the edge of your shirt, his thumbs resting on your hipbones. He captured your lips with his in a slow, gentle kiss. “Better than I remembered,” he whispered.

“Mmm-hmm,” you murmured.

Dean grabbed one of the pies and pulled it over in front of him. He scooped a huge dollop of whipped cream onto his finger and rested it against your lips. “Open,” he ordered.

You opened your mouth as commanded, taking in his entire finger. You closed your lips around it and slowly sucked the whipped cream off, finally releasing his finger from your mouth with a small pop.

Dean stared at you, his pupils blown wide with lust, his mouth open and his breath coming in short pants. “Son of a bitch,” he moaned.

You stood up, pulling him after you by the hand. You led him to the living room, pointing at the couch. He sat down, watching you closely. You walked around the room, closing blinds and pulling drapes closed until the room had settled into semi-darkness.

By the time you returned to the couch, Dean had taken off his boots and removed his button down shirt. You sat next to him, curled against his side. He wrapped his arm around your waist, and cupped your cheek in his hand. He kissed your forehead, then your temple, working his way slowly to your lips. He nibbled at your bottom lip until you opened it for him. He set to work examining your mouth with his tongue, taking his time, setting a slow, deliberate pace.

You melted in his arms. How was it that this man could turn your knees to jelly with just a kiss?

It wasn’t long before you were stretched out beneath him and then both of you were down to nothing but your underwear, your clothes crumpled on the floor. Dean nuzzled your breasts, his fingers dancing lightly over your panty clad sex. He moaned as you rubbed him through his boxers, the deep, throaty sound sending tingles down your spine. You wanted to hear more, to make him moan your name.

You wiggled out of his arms, sliding down his body. You pushed his boxers down until he was able to kick them off and then you were taking him in your hand, pumping the hard shaft slowly as you licked and nibbled a line from his belly button down. You took him in your mouth, your tongue flicking over the slit, pre-come salting your tongue. Dean’s hand fisted in your hair, his hips arching slightly.

“Y/N,” he groaned.

You hummed in response to Dean’s moan, your mouth and tongue vibrating against his cock. You slid him as far into your mouth as you could handle, until he bumped the back of your throat. You began a steady rhythm, moving your mouth up and down, in conjunction with your hand at the base of his substantial shaft,  sucking and licking, tasting every inch of him. He moved his hips with you and when you snuck a glance at him, his eyes were closed, head thrown back, and mouth open, his face that of someone in the throes of pure ecstasy.

Dean had to be close to coming, his cock twitching in your mouth, his breath coming in short bursts, and you were ready to let him finish, but instead he took you by the shoulders, pulled you up the length of his body until you were nestled between his hips and practically attacked your mouth, his tongue stabbing in and out of you, his rough hands moving over your burning skin. He rolled you to your side, so you were lying nestled in his arms. He rubbed you through your panties until you were desperately grinding against his hand. He finally pushed the bothersome cloth down your thighs, then he was sliding his long middle finger into you, pumping it in and out, his thumb flicking repeatedly at your clit, sending electric spikes of heat roaring through your body. When you couldn’t wait any longer, you pushed Dean’s hand away and pulled him over you.

He entered you with a sigh. “Oh, God, so tight baby,” he moaned as he began to move. He took his time, his thrusts slow and easy, his kisses soft and gentle. It was different than the first time, but just as good. It was an exploration of each other - hands and mouths touching every inch of skin as your bodies moved together, each thrust pushing you closer and closer to the edge you were so desperate to fall over.

Heat began pooling in your stomach, spreading through your limbs, setting your nerve endings on fire until the explosion shot through you, your back arching, your hands tight on Dean’s ass as you held him against you. You moaned his name as you came repeatedly and seconds later, Dean followed, kissing you long and deep as he thrust into you one final time.

He held you tight against him as you snuggled together on the couch, neither of you wanting to move. He couldn’t seem to stop kissing you, your lips, your cheek, your forehead, even the end of your nose. Not that you were complaining, you could lie here with him forever.

It wasn’t forever, but it was the entire weekend. The two of you fell asleep on the couch, barely covered by an old quilt you kept tossed over the back of the couch for cold nights. You spent the next two days together, in and out of bed. You ate breakfast together, Dean in just his jeans and you in your t-shirt and underwear; he helped you mow your back lawn, laughing when you couldn’t get the mower started and then eventually taking over. You showered after the lawn was finished, both of you covered in dirt and grass, the need to get clean quickly turning into the need to make love in the shower and ending in giggles as you both collapsed to the bed, thoroughly satisfied and exhausted. You napped together for a couple of hours, then Dean made you dinner while you watched and shared a beer. He watched football while you graded papers, his hand resting lightly on your shoulder while you sat on the floor as he lay on the couch. And you made love, multiple times, sometimes hard and fast, other times slow and easy. You couldn’t seem to get enough of each other.

Monday morning came far too soon. Dean was asleep when you got up, reluctantly sliding out from under his arm and heading for the shower. By the time you emerged from the bathroom, he was sitting in the kitchen with a cup of coffee and your newspaper.

“Hi,” you murmured, stopping next to him. He smiled and wrapped his arm around your waist, looking up at you with those amazing green eyes. You leaned over and kissed him. You stepped away and poured yourself some coffee in a to-go mug.

“So are you gonna head out?” you asked, somewhat nervously. You couldn’t meet his eyes.

“Nah,” he said, flipping through the paper. “I thought I’d stay a couple more days.” He looked up at you. “Is that okay?”

You were too relieved to act like you weren’t glad he was staying. You were across the room in seconds and in his lap, your arms around his neck, kissing him for all you were worth.

Dean laughed, rubbing his hands up and down your back and returning your kiss with just as much enthusiasm as you were showing.

“I have to go,” you finally said. “Or I’ll be late.” You stood up and slipped on your shoes. “Why don’t you come by the school, maybe have lunch with me?”

“Sure,” Dean shrugged. “Sounds great.”

You gave him directions to the school and told him what time to be there for lunch, before giving him a quick kiss on the top of his head. You felt the words ‘I love you’ on the tip of your tongue, but you stopped yourself before they slipped out. Instead you muttered a garbled version of goodbye and bolted for the door.

You swore at yourself as you drove across town to the elementary school. You couldn’t believe you’d almost uttered the words that would probably send Dean running. Besides, you’d only known him for a few days, how could you be falling in love with him? Except, you were pretty sure that was exactly what was happening.

Thank God for the distraction that a bunch of eight and nine year olds provided. You were soon neck deep in math, english, social studies and science, so much so that you were surprised when the bell rang for lunch. You shooed your class out the door, then hurried up to the office.

You saw Dean standing patiently by the counter as you came around the corner. You’d expected him to look awkward and uncomfortable, after all, he was going into a strange place filled with people only you knew, who were most likely judging him on your behalf. Instead, he was leaning against the counter chatting with the receptionist who was probably old enough to be his grandmother, making her giggle like a little schoolgirl.  As soon as he saw you, his smile widened.

“Hey, did you get signed in?” you asked.

He grinned and pointed at the sticker on his jacket. “I’m all official,” he replied.

“He’s all yours, Y/N,” Miriam, the receptionist, said. “You better take him before I try to snatch him away from you.”

Dean chuckled and leaned over the counter. “It wouldn’t be hard, darling” he purred. “Gorgeous girl like you, I might have to consider it.” He gave her a flirty wink before taking your hand and chastely kissing your cheek. Miriam’s laughter followed you down the hall.

Surprisingly, Dean ended up staying the rest of the afternoon. When the kids saw him after lunch, they had surrounded him, questions flying. He’d handled it like a pro, answering their inquiries and telling them about himself. When he had tried to leave, the kids had protested, strongly. You’d smiled and shrugged, a little surprised yourself at how taken they were with him. Once you’d finally managed to get the class settled and working on their science projects, intent on freeing Dean from his third grade inquisitors, you’d expected him to make a run for it, but instead he’d shrugged and taken a seat in the only other adult sized chair in the room.

“I’d like to stay, if that’s alright with you,” he’d said.

“Sure,” you’d shrugged.

The afternoon flew by in a blur of kids and Dean. Whenever they had a free minute, your students would wander up to him, drawing him into conversation. He handled it like a pro and you were amazed at how good he was with them, never impatient or awkward. At the end of the day, every one of your twenty-five students had to stop and say goodbye to him, many of them pleading with him to return.

Once the last student, a tiny brown-haired girl named Olivia, had left, you began stacking the chairs on top of the desk. Dean took your hand and pulled you into a long overdue kiss.

“You’re amazing, you know that right?” he asked.

You blushed furiously, embarrassed. “Nah,” you replied. “I’m just a teacher.”

“No, you’re not,” he said firmly. “Not everybody could do that. I am very impressed. Never knock yourself down, you are great with those kids. I can see why they love you.” He kissed you again. “Now let’s get out of here, I’m starving.”

The next couple of weeks went on like that. You’d go to work in the morning and some days, Dean would show up for lunch or to hang out with your class while they were at recess. On other days, you found him stretched out on the couch, asleep with the remote in his hand, some talk show playing quietly on the television. Most recently, you’d come home to find him with his head buried in his laptop, intently studying whatever was on the screen. More often than not, he’d slam the top closed and put it aside, not to be opened again while you were with him.

The two of you settled into domesticity and you were starting to think you’d like it to stay like that forever. Dean hadn’t mentioned leaving and you were afraid to bring it up, afraid he would do just that. Or worse, think that you wanted him to leave. He seemed happy and content. You’d actually started to think about pulling out the dreaded ‘L’ word and telling him how you really felt, but you hadn’t worked up the nerve yet.

Another weekend rolled around, Friday a half day meant for grading and playing catch up. But you’d busted your butt all week so you could leave early and spend every possible second with Dean.

So, you were definitely not happy when you came around the corner and saw Dean’s car parked on the curb in front of your house. Up until now, he’d been keeping the Impala he fondly referred to as Baby parked in the driveway, a tarp thrown over it. The trunk was open and he was rummaging through it when you pulled into the driveway. He slammed it closed as you parked in the driveway and walked toward him.

Dean met you at the end of the sidewalk leading to the front door. He kissed you and took your hand.

“What’s going on?” you asked nervously.

“Let’s go inside and talk,” he replied, tugging you toward the door.

Your stomach dropped like a rock in water. You bit your lip, sure you were going to cry. This couldn’t be good.  

Once you were inside, you yanked your hand out of his and hurried down the hall to the bedroom. You could feel the tears coming and Dean hadn’t even said anything yet. You sat on the edge of the bed, working the zipper on your boots, trying to see through the blur of tears in your eyes.

“Y/N,” Dean said quietly. When you wouldn’t look at him, he crossed the room and crouched in front of you. He put his finger under your chin, forcing you to look at him. “(Y/N), I have to go.”

You nodded and now the tears were flowing freely, sliding down your face. You tugged at the zipper on your boot again, but it was stuck. Frustrated, you yanked repeatedly at it, until he put his hand on yours, stopping you. Gently, he pulled the zipper down and slid your boot off, then repeated the movement with the other one. He dropped to his knees, sitting between your open legs. He cupped your cheeks in his hands and wiped the tears away with his thumbs, then he kissed you, his lips barely brushing over yours.

“I don’t want to,” he whispered.

“Wh…what?” you stuttered, not sure you’d heard him right.

“God, Y/N, I don’t want to leave you,” he murmured, capturing your lips with his. His kiss was desperate and hungry, unlike anything you’d ever felt from him before.

“Then don’t go,” you pleaded. “Stay here, with me.” You clutched the front of his shirt, as if it would stop him from leaving.

Dean rested his head against yours. “I have to go, baby,” he repeated. “It’s complicated, hard to explain. Sam called….”

“Your brother?” you interrupted.

“Yeah, he found us a job,” he explained.

“But you said you were taking a break,” you argued. “I don’t understand….”

“It’s the family business,” he replied with a sigh. “I…I can’t really say no.” He kissed you again, pushing you back onto the bed. “I have a little bit of time before I have to leave,” he whispered.

You understood what he really meant almost immediately. You pulled at his clothes and within minutes, the two of you were lying naked in each other arms, desperately kissing. Dean massaged your breast, plucking and twisting your hardened nipple between his thumb and forefinger, the combination of pain and pleasure tantalizingly erotic. You took his hardening shaft in your hands, tugging, pulling and twisting your hand, touching him in all of the ways you’d learned he liked over the last couple of weeks.

He slowly traced a finger over your damp folds, then he pinched your clit, drawing a breathy moan from you. He carefully pushed two fingers inside of you, pumping them gently. You squirmed against his hand, pushing yourself down on his questing fingers, silently begging for more.

Dean pulled your leg over his hip, his cock brushing your entrance. You rocked against him and then he was entering you, sliding in slowly until he was completely seated inside your warmth. He moved and you nearly came undone right then, the angle causing him to brush against your g-spot. You gripped Dean’s arm as he continued thrusting, his lips scorching a trail along your neck.

“Oh God,” you moaned, your back arching, the angle getting even better with the subtle change in position. An obscene sound fell from your lips as Dean thrusts became harder and deeper, and his kisses more and more urgent. It wasn’t long before you were coming, the orgasm taking over, the pleasure so unbelievable that you thought you might pass out from the sheer bliss.

You clenched around Dean and with a deep growl, he began pumping erratically into you in short, tight bursts before he was coming, holding you tight against him, as his cock jerked, his seed spilling into you.

“Fuck,” he groaned as his movements slowed and then stopped. He didn’t pull away, he stayed where he was, buried inside you, kissing you as he traced patterns all over your naked back.

You pressed your face against his chest, memorizing his unique scent, your hands roaming his body so you could commit every inch of him to memory. The tears came again, dampening his chest. You decided you had to tell him, you couldn’t let him leave without letting him know how you felt.

“I love you, Dean,” you mumbled, the words muffled against his chest.

There was silence for what seemed like forever, though it was really only a few seconds. You were afraid to move, afraid to breath, terrified of Dean’s response or even his lack of a response. Your hands clenched where they rested on his shoulders.

“I love you, too, Y/N,” he responded, his voice low and choked with emotion.

“You do?” you said, sure you sounded shocked.

“How could I not?” he answered. “You’re beautiful, giving, funny, smart, you are absolutely amazing with your kids, and you’re willing to love a guy like me. If only you knew….” He trailed off, leaving his thought unfinished.

“If only I knew what?” you asked, pulling away to look into his eyes.

Dean shook his head. “Nothing,” he murmured. “It’s not important.” He brushed your hair away from your face, a gentle smile on his lips. “Now, kiss me again,” he demanded.

You did as he told you, but he pulled away far too soon. “I really have to go,” he said. He pushed himself off of the bed with a heavy sigh and gathered his clothes, putting each piece on as he found it.

“You’re still leaving?” you muttered, sitting up and pulling the sheet over yourself, holding it tight to your chest.

“I told you, I have to,” he sighed. “It’s a family thing. I wish I could stay with you, but I can’t…I can’t get away from it…and I don’t want you hurt…ever. If I stay here, chances are the day will come when you will.”

You didn’t understand what he meant, he wasn’t making any sense. You opened your mouth to argue, but he cut you off with a finger to your lips.

“Don’t make this any harder,” he growled. He grabbed the back of your head, tangled his fingers in your hair and kissed you. He leaned his forehead against yours. “I love you.”

And then he was gone. No a word about whether or not he’d be back, or if he’d even call. You heard the growl of the Impala’s engine as it started and with a squeal of its tires, he left. As quickly as he’d come into your life, he was gone.


	3. Chapter 3

You sat in your favorite booth, in your favorite restaurant, with your favorite dessert sitting in front of you. Audrey had put a single candle in the huge piece of chocolate cream pie and slathered it with whipped cream, just like you liked it. She’d even sang Happy Birthday to you, convincing everyone in the restaurant to sing along. It had managed to make you smile for the first time in months, though it was short-lived. Once everyone went back to work or to their meal, the smile dropped from your face and you felt the tears welling up in your eyes again.

This wasn’t how you’d wanted to spend your birthday, alone in in a restaurant, pining for the guy who got away, the guy who broke your heart.

It had been more than six months since Dean had walked out your door after telling you he loved you. There hadn’t been one phone call, not even a text message, in all that time. At first you’d been fine, but as days turned into weeks and weeks turned into months, it had gotten harder and harder to pretend it didn’t bother you. The last couple of months had been especially hard; the crying stints had become a nightly event, one you couldn’t shut down. The only time you didn’t think about it was when you were working, but now that summer break had officially started, you weren’t sure what you were going to do.

You stabbed your fork into the pie, not wanting to eat it. Or even look at it for that matter. But you couldn’t exactly tell Audrey that you didn’t want your favorite pie because it reminded you of the guy you’d fucked for two weeks last fall and then he’d walked out on you.

And that did it, now the tears were coming again and this time, there’d be no stopping them. You grabbed your purse, dropped a twenty dollar bill on the table and hurried from the restaurant. You walked home, head down, tears running down your face, the only sound the slap of your flip-flops on the sidewalk. You were grateful it was dark so no one in the passing cars or walking by could see your red, puffy eyes and tear-streaked face.

It only took you about ten minutes to get home. You’d apparently forgotten to leave on the porch light, so it took you longer than usual to get your key in the lock and the door opened. You tossed your keys and purse on the table by the door and flipped the switch on the wall. Nothing happened. You tried it again, but still nothing.

You sighed in frustration, figuring a fuse had blown. You went into the kitchen, flipping switches as you went. Nothing was working. So it wasn’t a fuse; you needed to check the circuit breakers. You turned on the flashlight app on your phone and yanked open the rarely used basement door. You walked carefully down the stairs, the light from your phone not penetrating the dark more than a foot or so in front of you.

You suddenly tripped and stumbled forward, not realizing you had reached the bottom of the stairs. As you fell, you caught a glimpse of a pale face and dark eyes staring at you from less than a foot away. You screamed, the low, keening sound building slowly in your throat.

Your phone flew out of your hand as you hit the floor, sliding across the room.  Your scream was cut short by a cold hand slapping over your mouth and then you were being dragged to your feet by your hair. You couldn’t see anything, just the outline of a pale face inches from yours.

“Where is Dean Winchester?” the man asked, his stinking breath blowing across your face.

“Wh…what?” you stammered.

A hand slammed into your cheekbone, the slap so hard it sent you reeling backward, your back hitting the stair railing behind you. As you started to slide to the floor, the hand was back in your hair, pulling you to your feet. His other hand wrapped around your throat and pushed you into the stair rails, the fingers squeezing just enough to hurt.

“I said, where is Dean Winchester?” he asked again.

You shook your head. “I…I haven’t seen him…,” you gasped, barely able to talk. You pawed at the hand holding your throat and the grip loosened minutely.  “I haven’t seen him in months,” you finally squeaked out.

“How long?” the man asked.

“S…si…six m-m-months,” you stuttered.  “More.”

The man growled in frustration and then he was dragging you up the stairs, one hand in your hair, the other around your throat. He dropped you to the floor of the small kitchen, one foot on your wrist, pressing it into the floor. You let out a small squeak of pain, causing him to press harder on your wrist.

“Not a sound,” he ordered.

He grabbed a chair and put it in the middle of the room before leaning over you and yanking you to your feet, his heavy arms wrapped around you, crushing you, making it hard to breathe. In seconds, your hands and feet were bound, securing you to the chair. The dish towel from your kitchen counter was unceremoniously shoved into your mouth as a makeshift gag and then, he was gone, heading back down the basement stairs.

You didn’t understand what was happening, but you had never been more terrified in your life. Why would someone come to your home, looking for Dean? And what kind of person was Dean if a guy like this was looking for him? Your mind filtered through all of the possibilities, not wanting to believe any of them.

The kitchen was suddenly flooded with light, temporarily blinding you. You heard footsteps coming up the stairs and your breath came in short, quick bursts as the fear overwhelmed you. The man stepped through the basement door, pushing it closed behind him. He was holding a phone to his ear, mumbling. He stopped in front of you and you could see your phone in its royal blue case in his hand.

“I’m working on it,” he grumbled into his phone. “Well, tell him he’ll have to be patient. Winchester’s not here, but I think I might have something that will bring him running. I’ll call you as soon as I have him.” He disconnected the call and shoved his phone in his pocket. He grabbed one of the other chairs from the kitchen table and turned it around so he could sit on it, resting his arms on the back. He stared at you for several minutes, not saying a word. You began to fidget uncomfortably from the intensity of his gaze.

“If you call Dean, will he come?” he finally asked.

You shook your head. If that was the case, Dean would have come a million times over by now.

The man leaned forward and grabbed the end of the towel protruding from your mouth. “I’m taking this out. Do not scream,” he ordered. “Or I promise you’ll regret it.”

You nodded weakly. He pulled the towel from your mouth, tossing it to the counter. You licked your lips. “He won’t come,” you croaked, your throat so dry you can barely speak. “He won’t even answer when I call. I’ve tried a million times. It always goes to voicemail.”

“Well, then, I guess we’ll have to leave him a little message, won’t we?” the man said. He stood up and moved around the room, opening and closing drawers and cupboards.

You watched him as he moved, knowing what was in every drawer he opened. A smile spread across his face when he opened the drawer next to the sink and you knew exactly what was in his hand before he even turned around. Your entire body began to shake and tears flowed down your face.

“No, no, no, please,” you begged. “Please don’t hurt me.”

The man walked toward you, your small, very sharp paring knife in one hand, your cell phone in the other. He smiled as he pressed several buttons on the phone. He set it on the counter and you could hear it ringing and then a deep, rumbling voice coming through the speaker.

_This is Dean. Leave me a message if you want a call back._

“Well, hello there Dean,” the man said. “Bet this wasn’t the voice you were expecting to hear, was it?” He circled your chair as he talked, that horrible smile still on his face. “Look, I’ll cut right to the chase. Name’s Alec and well, I really, really need to talk to you. So, I came to visit your little girlfriend here, figuring I’d find you getting your rocks off, but lo and behold, she hasn’t seen you for months. She said you won’t even return her calls. Well, I think you’ll return this one.”

A burning pain suddenly slashed across your forehead and you screamed. You could feel blood running down your temple and then it was pooling in your eye, turning everything a hazy pinkish color.

“Not a very nice birthday present, is it, darlin’?” Alec murmured in your ear.

Another slice of the blade opened a cut across your cheekbone and then one in a vertical line down your upper arm. You couldn’t help the howl of pain you let loose. Tears ran into the cut on your cheek, making it sting even more. You could hear droplets of blood from your arm hitting the tile floor under your chair.

Alec leaned on the counter, right next to your phone. “The King of Hell wants to talk to you, Dean. And he’s getting impatient. So, you need to be here by, let’s say, tomorrow. Otherwise, I send you a video of all the fun (Y/N) and I are having.” He disconnected the call.

You stared at the man standing in your kitchen, your blood dripping onto the floor from his knife. “How do you know my name? Or that it’s my birthday?” you asked. “How do you even know that I know Dean? We spent one night together last August and two weeks together last fall. He doesn’t give a shit about me.” You were sobbing, the words running from your mouth in an endless stream. “I haven’t heard from him in six months. SIX months. He doesn’t love me, he lied, don’t you understand, he lied when he said he loved me. He won’t come. You might as well just kill me, because Dean won’t come.” You were screaming by the time you finished, your words almost incoherent. Exhausted, your head fell forward, your chin resting on your heaving chest.

“He doesn’t care,” you whispered.

Alec returned the gag to your mouth and straddled the chair. He sat and looked at you; he seemed to be contemplating something.

“You don’t know what he is, do you?” he finally said.

You shook your head, afraid to hear what he was going to say.

“Him and his brother, they’re hunters,” Alec said matter-of-factly. “All those things that go bump in the night, the horror stories you think are just stories, well, they’re real. Monsters of all kinds - vampires, werewolves, even demons,” he explained. “That’s what Dean hunts.”

You snorted and shook your head. He had to be lying. None of that stuff was real.

He stood up and moved to the other side of the room. He stared at you and then he raised a finger, gesturing to you as if he wanted you to come to him. Suddenly, the chair you were in was sliding across the room. Alec caught you by the shoulders, stopping the chair. He grinned, leaned over you and then he blinked. When his eyes opened, they were completely black. You tried to scream, but the gag stopped you. You didn’t know what this was, what he was, but you knew if you didn’t get away from him, you were dead. The evil came off of him in waves. Alec laughed and grabbed your head in both of your hands, staring into your eyes.

“Oh, it’s real all right,” he purred. “Everything is real.” With a flick of his finger, the chair flew backward, slamming your head into the counter. He pointed at himself. “Demon,” he said. He left the room, his laughter trailing after him.

Over the next several hours, you drifted in and out of consciousness, the blow to the back of the head and loss of blood affecting you. Your cell phone was still on the counter, silent. You held onto the desperate hope that Dean would call or magically appear, but as the hours passed, you came to accept the fact that you were going to die, alone. Dean really wasn’t coming.

The light was just creeping through the window over the sink when you thought you heard a noise outside. You looked toward the door leading to the living room, wondering if Alec had also heard it. When he didn’t come through the door, you returned your attention to the window, straining to see through the flimsy curtains over the window. Nothing. You were starting to believe you were imagining things when the sound of something breaking came from the front of the house, followed by a muffled curse.

You could hear fighting and yelling, at least three different voices, and they seemed to be moving towards you. A few seconds later, the door swung open and three large male bodies burst into the room - one was Alec, one was a tall guy with shaggy hair who looked vaguely familiar and the third was Dean. The tall guy was wielding a knife, while Dean was holding what looked like a short, silver sword.

While Dean pushed Alec back through the door into the living room, the shaggy-haired guy rushed to your side. You flinched away from him when he raised the knife in his hand.

“It’s okay, (Y/N),” he said, his voice calm and soothing despite the chaos erupting through your small house. “I’m Sam, Dean’s brother.”

He used the knife to cut the ropes holding you, then he helped you to your feet. When you tried to follow him, you nearly collapsed. Sam caught you, holding you upright. There was a loud grunt from the other room and you saw a faint orangish-colored light flash briefly under the door. There was silence for a few seconds and then Dean strode through the door, the sword-like weapon covered in blood.

He came straight to you, taking you from Sam and pulling you into his arms. You buried your face in his chest and burst into tears.

“I’m sorry,” he murmured. “I’m so sorry.” He kissed your temple, his hand tangled in your hair, holding you against his chest.

He gave his brother a couple of instructions, then he scooped you up and carried you to the couch. “I’ll be right back, I promise,” he said after he set you down.

You clutched at him, your hands grasping the front of his shirt. You whined low in the back of your throat, wordlessly pleading with him to stay with you.

He took your hands in his and pulled them off of his jacket. “I’m just getting the first aid kit. I swear I’ll be right back.”

Reluctantly, you released him. You started shivering uncontrollably and somehow, your basic first aid training kicked in and told you that you were most likely going into shock. You tried to reach behind you and grab the blanket you kept on the back of the couch, but the shivering was so bad you could barely move.

Dean was back a few seconds later, first aid kit in hand. When he saw you shivering, he grabbed the blanket and wrapped it around your shoulders.

“Sh…sh…shock,” you stammered.

“Yeah, baby,” he agreed. “I think you’re going into shock.” He laid you down and propped your feet on a pillow, then he took a damp towel and started cleaning the blood from your face. You watched him closely. Occasionally, you could see Sam moving through the house behind him. Dean gently took your arm and set to work cleaning the cut. You winced when he touched it, garnering a sympathetic look from him.

“Sammy, come take a look at this cut,” he called to his brother.

Sam came over and gently took your arm, examining the wound. “It definitely needs stitches,” he said, turning your arm carefully from side to side.

“Crap,” you heard Dean mumble. “I hate doing stitches.”

“Do you want me to do it?” Sam asked.

“Yeah,” Dean answered. “I’ll take care of the demon’s body.”

“He really was a demon?” you interjected, trying to sit up.

Dean pushed you gently back onto the couch. He glanced at Sam out of the corner of his eye.

“I’ll go grab the stuff to stitch up her arm,” Sam said. A few seconds later you heard the front door close behind him.

Dean took your hand and sat by you on the edge of the couch. He rubbed his thumb across your knuckles and took a deep breath.

“I’m a hunter,” he finally said. “And by that, I don’t mean I hunt Bambi.”

“I know,” you whispered.

“He told you?” he asked, gesturing toward the hallway where you could see the feet of the dead demon.

You nodded. “Is it true? Are monsters and all that stuff real?”

He shrugged. “Most of them are real. That’s what we do, we find them and if need be, we kill them. Sam and me, well, we’ve been doing this since we were kids. I don’t know anything else.”

You still weren’t sure how to take all of this. Should you be afraid of Dean and his brother? Was this why Dean had left you, why you hadn’t heard from him for so long? So many questions raced through your mind.

He must have seen something in your eyes - fear, uncertainty, or any variety of things - because he leaned over and gently kissed you.

“Please don’t be afraid of me,” he murmured. His ran his hands soothingly up and down your arms, his brow furrowed as if he was thinking. With a deep sigh, he continued. “I know I hurt you when I left….”

“No, you hurt me when you left me and didn’t contact me for six months,” you said. “After you told me you loved me.” A single tear slid down your cheek.

Dean wiped it away. “I know, but you have to understand, I stayed away  _because_  I love you. I didn’t ever want to see you hurt and I was afraid if I came back, that’s what would happen.” He gently kissed the cut on your forehead, then the cut on your cheek. “But it happened anyway,” he growled. “And it’s my fault.”

You heard the front door open and close again, and then Sam was standing behind his brother. He awkwardly cleared his throat.

Dean gently kissed you on the lips, then he stood up and crossed the room. He and Sam talked quietly for a few minutes and then Sam was standing over you, a small smile on his face.

“Hey, (Y/N),  I’m gonna fix up your arm, okay?” he said gently. “But it’s gonna hurt like a bitch. No way to numb it.” He handed you a bottle of water and helped you to sit up. He took your hand and dropped a pill in it. “This’ll help, a little bit anyway.”

You gingerly took the pill and swallowed it, downing half the bottle of water in just a couple swallows. You returned to your prone position, clutching the blanket nervously.

Sam set to work. He talked the entire time, though he didn’t seem to expect a response. You didn’t know if the talking was for your benefit or his, but it did seem to help you to calm down.

“So, I guess, Dean told you what we do,” he said as he cleaned your arm with a rag soaked in what smelled like cheap whiskey. “He’s been wanting to tell you for months. I don’t know how many times he said he was going to drive down here and just tell you the goddamn truth.” Sam threaded a curved needle with what looked like dental floss. “And that’s a direct quote.”

He stopped talking long enough to place a folded towel under your arm. When he picked up the needle, you looked away, staring at the back of the couch.

“You know he really likes you,” Sam said. He chuckled softly. “That sounded so junior highish, didn’t it?”

You winced as the needle entered your arm, but Sam’s soothing voice and that little pill starting to work helped to make it relatively bearable. Besides, it wasn’t any worse than what you’d already gone through.

“I’ve never seen him like this,” Sam continued. “With a girl I mean. My brother is more the "love ‘em and leave 'em” type. But not with you. He’s got it pretty bad.“

Fifteen minutes later, Sam was wrapping a bandage around your arm. He helped you sit up again, looking you over carefully.

"I’ll be right back,” he said disappearing into the kitchen.

You hadn’t seen Dean in a while. You could no longer see the demon’s body, so you figured he must have taken it somewhere.

Sam returned from the kitchen and handed you a glass of orange juice. You must have made a face because he chuckled lightly.

“Drink it, you need the sugar,” he ordered. “When’s the last time you ate something?”

“I don’t know, yesterday I guess,” you replied. “It’s been awhile.” You were having a hard time staying awake, your eyes kept dropping closed on their own volition. You forced them open and sipped the cold drink. “Where’s Dean?”

“Taking care of the body,” Sam answered. “He should be back soon. Look, can I tell you something?” He didn’t wait for a response, he just kept on talking. “I know you’re probably pretty pissed at him, but could you maybe give him a break? He did what he did out of concern for you. He didn’t want you involved in this life. He thought you’d be safe if he stayed away.”

You were pissed, but you were beginning to understand Dean’s reasoning, especially after listening to his brother. You didn’t like it and he’d really hurt you, but saving your life sort of trumped that. And Sam was completely sincere and hard not to believe. Dean deserved a chance to set things right.

You didn’t even realize your eyes had drifted shut until you felt the glass being taken from your hand. You sighed, curled up under the blanket and gave up trying to stay awake. The last thing you remembered was hearing two male voices talking quietly before a set of strong arms was lifting you and carrying you through the house. Gentle hands stripped your clothes off until you were lying on your bed in just underwear and a tank top. A warm, hard body pressed itself against your back and then you were surrounded by Dean’s unique scent as you fell asleep.

The feel of a heavy arm draped over your body was like an oppressive weight smothering you. Any second now you’d be tied to your own kitchen chair, waiting for the demon to kill you, because Dean wasn’t coming.

You kicked and screamed, clawing your way to consciousness, fighting against the arms holding you. You could hear someone calling your name.

“(Y/N), wake up. You’re dreaming, (Y/N),” the voice said.

Strong hands grabbed your hands and then you heard Dean’s voice, soft, but deep and gruff, whispering in your ear.

“Shhh, (Y/N), shhh, it’s okay, you’re safe,” he murmured. He kissed the cut on your forehead, then the cut on your cheek, his lips moving down your cheek until they reached your mouth. He softly kissed you.

“Dean,” you breathed.

“Yeah, it’s me,” he answered.

There was a quiet knock at the door, then Sam stuck his head in. “Everything okay?” he asked. Light from the hallway flooded the room.

“Yeah, Sammy, we’re good,” Dean said.

Sam nodded and pulled the door closed, leaving you and Dean lying in the dark room.

Dean gathered you in his arms and pulled you tight against him. You let him wrap himself around you, your legs tangled together and arms around each other.

“I missed you,” you whispered after a few minutes.

“Oh, yeah?” he asked. “Even though you were mad at me?”

“Yeah,” you sighed. “Even though I was mad at you.” You traced circles on his t-shirt clad chest with your finger. You wanted to ask him a question, though you weren’t sure you wanted to hear the answer. “Can I ask you something?” you finally said.

“Sure,” he replied a little uncertainly. “I guess.”

“Do you…,” you took a deep breath. “Do you still love me?”

“God, yes,” he sighed. “Do you still love me?”

You nodded as you put your hands behind his neck and pulled him to your lips. “So much,” you said, then you kissed him.

You didn’t expect to feel like you suddenly felt as you kissed Dean, not after everything you’d gone through. Maybe it was because you hadn’t seen him for so long or because you were desperate for his touch, but as soon as his lips brushed across yours, you felt that familiar heat pooling in your stomach and an ache only he could take care of between your legs. You pressed yourself against him and moaned as you slid your hands under his shirt and over his tense abdominal muscles.

“(Y/N),” he groaned. “You don’t have to.” He grabbed your wrists, stopping you from touching him.

“I’m not doing this because I have to,” you told him. “I’m doing it because I want to, because I need you, Dean. I need you to touch me, to kiss me, to make love to me. Please.” You were practically begging, but you didn’t care. You wanted him.

Dean answered you by taking your right hand and placing it over the huge bulge hiding beneath his underwear, pressing his hips into your hand. And then he was kissing you and it was exactly like it should be - hard, desperate, needy and like it had been too long since the two of you had touched. You tore at his clothes, yanking his t-shirt unceremoniously over his head and shoving his boxer briefs down his legs. He reciprocated, your tank top and underwear gone from your body in no time.

He took your breasts in his rough calloused hands, massaging them gently as he devoured your neck, marking you as his. You held him in your hand, your fingers repeatedly grazing his sensitive sac as you pumped his shaft. He groaned, his hips bucking and his cock twitching as you worked him over.

Dean’s hand glided down your body, until he reached the apex between your thighs, his fingers lightly tracing your folds as he suckled your breast, pulling the nipple into his mouth. He was kissing, sucking and nibbling every inch of skin he could reach, his finger slowly sliding into your warm core and pumping gently.

“Fuck, baby, you’re so wet for me,” he moaned, another finger joining the first. His movements intensified, his fingers pumping rapidly in and out of your wet sex as you continued caressing his stiff cock. Your finger swiped across the tip, spreading the pre-come along his shaft as you jerked him off faster and faster. When he crooked his fingers and hit your g-spot, you let out a strangled squeal, your hips rising to meet his hand.

“Dean, I need you inside me, please,” you begged.

He didn’t need to be told twice. He pushed you to your back and then he was slamming into you, hard. You wrapped your legs around his waist and your hands around his neck, meeting him thrust for thrust. Just when you thought you might be close, he withdrew until just the tip of him was inside you, his hands on either side of your head and then he was gently rocking back and forth, back and forth, each thrust pushing another inch of his substantial cock inside you. It was driving you insane, your head was whipping back and forth and you were groaning obscenely. Dean rammed into you, deeper and harder than any previous endeavors and then you were coming, climaxing like you never had before, the pleasure so intense it was almost unbearable. Your back came off of the bed as the orgasm washed over you, tingling in every nerve-ending, indescribable bliss claiming you as its own.

Two hard thrusts later and Dean was following suit, his lips capturing yours in a possessive, mind-blowing kiss that relayed every emotion he was feeling without him uttering a word. He dropped to the bed, partially sprawled across your chest, his face buried in your neck.

“That was fucking awesome,” he growled. He pushed himself off of you and rolled to his back, pulling you with him so that you were now the one sprawled over his chest. He ran his hand up and down your back as you lay together catching your breath.

“I want you to come with me,” he said.

“What?” you asked. You propped your chin on his chest so you could look at him.

“Come on the road with me,” he said. “It’s the only way I can make sure you’re safe. I can’t leave you here alone again. I want you with me.”

“I don’t know….,” you mumbled. “My life is here….”

“Then just come with me for a little while,” Dean said. “I need you, (Y/N). I can’t be without you again. It’s not just about you being safe, it’s about me loving you and wanting you with me all the time.” He sighed loudly. “Let me show you. Let me prove to you that you belong with me. Please.”

“What about Sam?” you asked, worried that Dean’s brother wouldn’t want you with them.

“Sam’s all for it,” he explained. “He’s been trying for months to get me to come and get you. I kept putting him off, knowing that you wouldn’t want to leave your students. But now, now you could. Please, just give me a chance.”

You thought you’d have to think about it, to weigh the pros and cons like you always did. Spontaneous wasn’t a word that was normally in your vocabulary. Except when it came to Dean Winchester.

“Okay,” you said. “I’ll go.”

“Thank God,” Dean mumbled and then he was dragging you up his body and kissing you, sealing the deal.

When the kiss finally ended, what seemed like hours later, you snuggled up to Dean, your head tucked under his chin. It wasn’t long before Dean’s body relaxed and his breathing slowed and you could tell he was asleep. But you couldn’t sleep, you were nervous, excited and scared all at once. You had a feeling your life was about to get very interesting.


End file.
